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At the school like no other, there was one particular student who was humiliated to a degree like no other. I promised in my intro that I would devote a chapter to Blondie's travails, and I must say that his misfortunes—"calamities" is probably a more apt word—certainly warrant its own chapter.

I was in the same graduating class as Blondie's, so I was fortunate enough to witness quite a few of his degradations. As Roosevelt victims go, Blondie was the exception to the rule, in that his strippings and humiliations continued beyond his freshman year. Indeed, the poor guy was stripped at least once in his junior year! I know, because I was lucky enough to be there when it happened.

All told, I probably saw Blondie get stripped in some form about half a dozen times. I know from all the stories that there were several other instances that I missed. In this chapter I will stick to the occasions that I witnessed. I know that some of them have already been chronicled, either by Blondie himself (on the Web, titled "Roosevelt Humiliations") or by a former student named Felicity (also on the Web, titled "The Felicity Chronicles"), who was Blondie's biggest nemesis. I won't go into detail on those, but I thought it might be nice to touch on them, so you can get an outsider's perspective. There is at least one other Blondie stripping that I haven't seen described anywhere, so I'll go into a little more detail on that one.

I will recount a few of these wonderful experiences in chronological order.

* * * * *

Freshman Year

As luck would have it, Blondie and I shared the same Homeroom. Too add to that lucky circumstance, our Homeroom teacher was none other than Miss Farnsworth, who, as you may remember from a previous chapter, was quite fond of delving out the occasional humiliation to one of her unfortunate students when the opportunity arose.

It had started out as an ordinary day in early October. That abruptly changed to extraordinary when I was situated at my desk in Homeroom and a red-faced, youngish looking boy entered the room, clad only in a white tee shirt and tighty-whities. Apparently a few of the senior boys decided to have their fun with him, and stripped him down to his underwear. They made him show up to Homeroom like that, probably with the threat of taking it even further if he didn't do so.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly changed from boredom to excitation. I remember grinning from ear to ear, and feeling that titillation that I get when I witness a boy's humiliation. And it was about to get better.

Miss Farnsworth walked in and she could sense that her students were keyed up. It didn't take her long to discover the reason, as Blondie's seat was front row middle. A smile crossed her lips as she looked Blondie up and down. She told him to stand up.

"You have very pretty legs," she said, and we all laughed.

It was true. Blondie had long, slender legs, and didn't seem to have much, if any hair on them in his freshman year. "Pretty" was a fitting description. I have to say, I wish I had legs like that. I'm pretty sure Blondie didn't feel the same way.

Then, everyone followed Miss Farnsworth's gaze out the window. She was grinning, and so were we all when we saw Blondie's corduroys comically flapping in the breeze. They had been hoisted to the top of the flagpole.

"Those must belong to you," said Miss Farnsworth, stating the obvious. Blondie responded with "fucking genius." He thought it was under his breath, but he was mistaken. And, much to my delight, it gave the depraved teacher a reason to further Blondie's humiliation.

"Take off your shirt," she said, and it was music to my ears. I don't think Blondie thought she was serious—he was unaware of Miss Farnsworth's reputation. So was I at that point, but I'm here to tell you that I was dearly hoping she meant it. Then she threatened to take him over her knee and give him a bare-bottomed spanking if he didn't capitulate. A rush of pleasure came over me when she said that, and the reasons are twofold. One, I was further stimulated by the vision of her administering a very embarrassing bare-assed spanking. And two, I realized at that point that she was dead set on stripping the frightened freshman further. And I'm pretty Blondie had the same realization.

Lo and behold, in a matter of moments she was stashing Blondie's shirt in her desk drawer, and he was standing among us wearing nothing but his tighty-whities.

My juices were flowing as I watched the mortified student slink back into his chair. Miss Farnsworth made him stand back up, and he was told to remain that way for the rest of the roll call. Then she made him turn around and face us. Of course, his face was tomato red, and the miserable expression on his face was exactly as you might expect. His hands were covering whatever bulge he had in his underpants, and Miss Farnsworth instructed him to put his hands to his sides. When he did, of course I immediately checked him out. I giggled (along with many others), since there was not much to check out. There was a very small bump from his penis, and his balls didn't fill out the material in any way whatsoever. This only added to my enjoyment, and Blondie's humiliation had to be through the roof.

Eventually Blondie was given permission to go retrieve his pants. But, though he begged for it, he was told he could have his shirt back when he comes back with his pants. So he had to traverse the hallway and venture outside in his tighty-whities. I could hear his bare feet slapping the floor as he made the mad dash down hallway. The mental pictures of Blondie in his tighty-whities that morning still bring a smile to my face.

* * * * *

Sophomore Year

Though I subsequently witnessed several strippings during my freshman year, none of them involved Blondie. I had heard of several instances involving him—one of them in which he was forced to strip naked in the darkened auditorium during the school play!—but I wasn't lucky enough to be on hand for any of them. Utimately there was the one Blondie episode in the latter part of our sophomore year when I was on hand, and it was a doozy. Again it occurred in our Homeroom class, and of course Miss Farnsworth was his tormenter.

The incident would never have occurred if not for a girl in our class named Brenda. Over the first two years of high school, Brenda and a few other girls (including Blondie's sister Becky) had gained control over Blondie, and sadistically used that control to humiliate him on several occasions. At one point Blondie tried to get back at her by coming to Homeroom before anyone else and writing on the board in big letters, "BRENDA HAS TINY LITTLE TITTIES." It was true, Brenda was not well endowed in the chest department, and when she walked in, everyone giggled at her. When she saw the reason why, she ran up and erased the offensive text. When she walked back to her seat, I could see that her face was bright red.

A few days later, Blondie got greedy and tried the same maneuver. Brenda caught him in the act, which certainly didn't bode well for him. She made him drop his pants, then she cut his underwear off with a pair of scissors, then tied a length of bright orange yarn around his dick and balls. When he pulled his pants back up, she cut off some more yarn and used it to tie his hands behind his back. She then reached through his fly, pulled on the yarn and led him down the hallway to the courtyard outside. After abundant teasing in front of many delighted eyewitnesses, she pulled his pants down to his ankles, revealing his little bits to all.

so wish I could have seen that—I did get a blow-by-blow later from Brenda—but what transpired when the two of them returned to Homeroom more than made up for my missed opportunity. I was casually checking out my phone while sitting at my desk when a grinning Brenda walked in. She was pulling on the length of yarn, leading a bare-chested Blondie literally by the balls, as the yarn extended from inside the open fly of his pants. She proceeded to entertain us by parading her red-faced victim back and forth across the front of the room, much to our amusement. Then she let him put on his shirt and tuck the yarn in his pants before zipping up. She whispered some instructions in his ear before sitting down. The beleaguered Blondie cringed, then reluctantly trudged to the board, picked up the chalk and wrote in big letters, "BLONDIE HAS A TEENSY WEENSY HAIRLESS LITTLE PEE-PEE." He walked back to his desk blushing crimson while our laughter reverberated throughout the room.

As agonizing as that was for Blondie, his humiliation was about to intensify, thanks to Miss Farnsworth. The diabolical teacher walked in and immediately saw what was written on her board. She looked at Blondie, smiled, and after ascertaining that he was the one who wrote the text, I knew there would be no stopping her. I think I actually licked my lips in anticipation.

"Do you understand the meaning of shame clothing?" she asked him. I sat up straight in my chair, eager for events to unfold.

And I would not be disappointed. I almost gagged on my saliva when she reached into her desk and pulled out a black, lacy bra.

"Would you remove your shirt and come up here, please?" she said.

Blondie was soon bare-chested again. Counting his topless entrance with Brenda that morning, it marked the third time I had seen him naked from the waist up in Homeroom, which is exactly three more times than anyone else. Poor, poor Blondie. I love it!

She turned the miserable Blondie around to face us, and went to work with her "shame clothing." Within moments she had the bra affixed to Blondie's chest, and it was quite the comical sight. When she said something about keeping the A-cup bra handy for her flat-chested girls, laughter resonated throughout, and Blondie's face was scarlet red.

She looked him up and down, and appeared deep in thought. I couldn't wait to see what she had in mind. Then she said something about how she remembered that he has pretty legs, and that since he was wearing a pretty bra, then he should show off his pretty legs. I was getting pretty excited, thinking he'd have to expose his tighty-whities again. I was not aware at the time that Brenda had cut off his underpants earlier that morning.

He whispered something to Miss Farnsworth, who grinned and said loudly, "Why aren't you wearing any underpants?" I gasped, and remember being disappointed, because I thought for sure that under the circumstances she wouldn't make him drop his pants.

But I underestimated Miss Farnsworth's appetite for inflicting humiliation. She was intent on doing just that—probably even more so since he was naked underneath. She reached for his belt (Blondie had turned around to face her, imploring her to let him keep his pants up), and Blondie put up a struggle, grabbing her wrists. After a sharp reprimand he let go, and Miss Farnsworth quickly unfastened his pants and vigorously hauled them down to his ankles, causing quite the uproar from his fellow students. I soaked in the very pleasant sight of his cute little bare ass, and yes, his pretty legs.

To compound Blondie's ignominious plight, there was the matter of Brenda's yarn that was dangling down from his privates. Miss Farnsworth shook her head, called him a pervert and told him to put his hands (which were clasped over his genitals) on his hips. Again he begged, but she was not to be denied. When he pulled his hands away she grinned and said, "You poor dear." Then she made him read out loud what was on the board.

"Blondie has a teensy weensy hairless little pee-pee," he said with a cracking voice.

"Indeed you do," she said, and we all laughed harder.

I dearly wanted to see for myself—I hadn't yet had the opportunity to see his little dick—but I somehow didn't think that would happen. Again, I underestimated the wicked Miss Farnsworth. She told him to turn around and face his classmates. After considerable hemming and hawing, he did so, and I have to say that I was basking in the sight, and in Blondie's humiliation. Indeed, the writing on the board was accurate. He had a little pee-pee, and there was not a hair to be found. Now, even if he had a bigger dick with hair, his humiliation would still have been quite profound. But for a 15-year-old boy to stand there like that with his hairless little bits on full display? Oh, my goodness!

To top things off, Miss Farnsworth made him sing the song "I Feel Pretty" from Westside Story, while wearing the bra and with his pants collected at his ankles.

Blondie's humiliation was complete, and I had another wonderful memory to add to my ever increasing collection of memories.

* * * * *

Junior Year

If Blondie had any luck, the progression into his junior year would have marked the end of his strippings and humiliations. His antagonists (though I heard they had a little fun with him over the summer) had pretty much exhausted their ways to humiliate the boy, and truth be told—I got this from Brenda—after two years of tormenting Blondie, it just wasn't as exciting for them as it used to be.

But, much to Blondie's misfortune, there was a new kid on the block. Her name was Felicity, and she was a force to be reckoned with. Felicity was the younger sister of one of Blondie's tormentors, and evidently she was invited along to one of Blondie's humiliation episodes early the previous summer. Apparently she enjoyed herself quite a bit. Her appetite for humiliation was whetted, and she couldn't wait to put her newfound fascination into play.

Felicity entered Roosevelt High as a freshman during Blondie's junior year. She became quite the terror (with the help of a few friends), and it wasn't long before she developed a circle of victims. All but one of them were Freshmen—a poor kid she called Johnny Boy was a common patsy—and, you guessed it, the exception would be the one and only Blondie. Evidently she possessed some incriminating, very embarrassing video footage from her experience with Blondie that summer night. And, much to Blondie's bad fortune, though Felicity had plenty of freshmen students under her thumb, Blondie was by far her favorite target.

I found out early during our junior year (much to my delight!) that Blondie would still be a victim of the Roosevelt humiliations. I was sitting in Homeroom before it started when Brenda started chatting me up. She informed me of Blondie's experience that occurred on the previous day. The longer she spoke, the more wide-eyed and agape I became. Evidently Felicity accosted Blondie at his locker, and before all was said and done he was naked. And here's the kicker: Before she let him get dressed, she gave him a list of instructions. She told him that when he got home that day he was to shave his body completely hairless, and he was to keep it that way from that day forward. I guess he had finally grown pubic hair, and according to Brenda, Felicity took hold of a tuft of it and said, "This has to go, too. I like my boys to be smooth all over." I mean, couldn't you just die?!

Anyway, legs, arms, underarms—everything! Plus, from the next day forward he was to wear really short shorts—she told him if they came anywhere close to mid-thigh that they were coming off—and a tee shirt with very short sleeves to show off his hairless arms. Oh, and no socks "so he could flaunt his pretty legs."

Also—and I really enjoyed this one—he had to go back to wearing tighty-whities (he had boxers on), because he hasn't earned the right to wear boxer shorts since his body hasn't matured enough. She said that he'll look like a 10-year-old boy down there with his hairless little bits, so tighty-whities are much more appropriate. Don't you just love it? Oh, I'm so sorry I missed that scene!

Blondie hadn't arrived yet, and I started watching the door anxiously.

"Do you think he will do it? Or did it?" I asked Brenda.

"I'm thinking 'yes.' If you would have seen him with Felicity yesterday, you would know that he's terrified of her. As he should be. <giggle>"

"I can't wait to see. And I so wish I would have been there yesterday."

"Oh, you would have loved it," said Brenda. "After telling him what he had to do, she made him repeat the instructions to her before she would let him get dressed."

"Oh, I love it!"

"Yeah, it was entertaining. She said, 'Tell me why you're not allowed to wear boxer shorts.' He said, 'Because I haven't earned it?' It was so funny! So she said, 'Yes, and tell me why you haven't earned it.' He stammered, and finally said, 'Because I haven't matured enough?' I loved how he posed it as a question, it was so cute. And Felicity was on a roll, and wasn't about to let up. She said, 'Good! And in what way have you not matured?' "

"Oh, my goodness!"

"I know. He couldn't answer, so she said, 'Is it because you have little boy bits?' He just said 'yes,' so she told him to say it.

"So he actually said, 'I have little boy bits?' I asked incredulously.

"He did. Then Felicity said, 'After tonight, what embarrassing feature will your little boy bits have?' He said, 'They'll have no hair.' "

"Oh my God, this is too much!"

"And then Felicity said, 'That's right! You'll have bald little boy bits!'

"Oh, that's hilarious!" I said.

"And then....."

At that moment the star of our conversation entered the room. He was walking very quickly, but before he reached his seat I was able to take in his attire: very short shorts, a short, tight tee shirt and an extremely red face, which turned even redder when he heard a wolf whistle coming from the back of the room.

I scrutinized his legs and arms, and sure enough, there was not a hair to be found. I was pretty sure there was also no hair anywhere inside his shorts, and that he was almost certainly wearing his tighty-whities.

A few days later I would have the pleasure of seeing for myself.

After that morning I became a bit of a stalker, I have to admit. Whenever I could i would trail Blondie in hopes that he would have an encounter with Felicity. One afternoon at the start of the lunch break I got my wish. Blondie was walking down the hallway and she seemingly came out of nowhere. She greeted him pleasantly (and probably enjoyed the frightened look on his face as much as I did), then took him by the arm and led him toward the girls bathroom. He resisted, but of course Felicity would get her way, and they eventually disappeared on the other side of the door.

Of course I had to follow them in there. I was not about to be denied a chance to observe whatever Felicity had in mind for him. And I had a feeling there would at least be a tighty-whities sighting.

There were at least a dozen girls already in the bathroom, and a couple more were coming in behind me. At first the occupants expressed alarm when they saw a boy in their bathroom, but there expressions immediately turned to amusement when they saw his clean-shaven legs, his level of embarrassment, and the fact that a youngish looking freshman girl seemed to have control of him.

Felicity stopped near the sink in the relatively large room and let go of Blondie's arm. She had him facing the interested onlookers. "You shouldn't have resisted, Blondie," she said calmly. "You'll have to be punished now."

"Please, I....I didn't want to go in the....it's the girls bathroom," he responded.

"Yes it is," responded Felicity. "And you have very pretty, girly legs," she continued, playing to the growing crowd. "So you should feel right at home." She looked at his shorts and said, "All I was going to do was have a quick check to make sure you're wearing your tighty-whities like I asked you to."

The sound of giggling girls echoed throughout the room, and the sense of anticipation was palpable. I, for one, could feel my pulse quickening, as I eagerly took in the unfolding scene.

"I'm wearing them," answered Blondie anxiously. "Here, look," he said as he dipped his fingers inside his shorts and pulled up on the material, exposing what certainly looked like the waist band of a pair of tighty-whities. I had a feeling (and I hoped!) that wouldn't satisfy her, and that feeling and hope would come to fruition. Felicity reached for the snap at the top of Blondie's shorts.

"Oh, we need to have a better look than that," said Felicity as she unsnapped the shorts.

"Please, Fel....please, not here....please, can I....can I show you in private?" begged Blondie as he looked around nervously. He made eye contact with me, which I really enjoyed. I made sure to give him a coquettish smile when we connected.

"I don't think so," said Felicity while pulling down on his zipper. "You lost your chance of privacy when you put up a fight against me." Blondie knew not to resist when Felicity stepped behind Blondie, probably to give his audience clear view (much to my delight!) and took hold of both sides of his shorts.

"Are you ready to show everybody your tighty-whities?" asked Felicity, pausing for dramatic effect.

"Please, no...." I loved how he pleaded for mercy. I mean, he had to know that Felicity wasn't about to let him keep his shorts up. But that didn't stop him from begging, which demonstrated how desperate he was to keep from being stripped. That's why, for me, his begging only added to my enjoyment of his ongoing humiliation.

Drawing out the moment further, Felicity momentarily let go of Blondie's shorts and took hold of his shirt tail with both hands. She then pulled it up to his breast bone, where it remained. "Now we'll get a nice, unobstructed view of your little tighty-whities when your shorts come down," she said.

I was really enjoying her commentary. She really knew how to set up a scene for the full humiliation effect.

I also enjoyed that she exposed his belly for us. The newly bared skin was tantalizing, and was a perfect foreshadowing of what was now inevitable.

Again she put her hands on the tops of his shorts, and again she let go. This time she addressed us. "Would anyone like to do the honors?" she asked. I'm sure she figured Blondie's humiliation would increase a notch if someone else became an active participant.

This was a major boon for me, because I immediately, almost involuntarily raised my hand and called out, "I'll do it!" and Felicity stepped aside, holding out an open palm.

"He's all yours," she said.

I was very excited about my good fortune, and I wanted to make the most of it. I stepped in front of Blondie, made eye contact, smiled, and stuck out my hand. Though we've been in the same Homeroom all three years, we've never really spoken. Blondie was a bit on the shy side."Hi Blondie, I'm Michelle." Blondie miserably reciprocated with a half-hearted handshake. Then, just for the hell of it, I kissed him on his profusely blushing cheek. I remember how warm it felt when my lips touched his skin. I then dropped down to a crouch, took one last look at his anxious expression and said, "Show time!" Then, without hesitation I proceeded to pull his shorts down to his ankles in one smooth, leisurely motion. I barely noticed the loud cheers reverberating throughout the bathroom, as I was quite focused on the exposed tighty-whities, the newly bared upper thighs, and the humiliation sensation that I most certainly had generated for the poor lad. It was an exquisite moment for me, one that I still cherish to this day.

I stepped back to survey the wonderful scene, and to let the expert take over.

"Thank you, Michelle," said Felicity. "That was well done."

Felicity then turned her attention to the beleaguered Blondie, who now was leaning forward with his hands clasped over the front of his underpants. I was enjoying his body language, and his shame.

Felicity was down on one knee at Blondie's feet. She tapped him on the leg. "Step out of these, please." Blondie complied, and Felicity expeditiously relieved him of his shorts. She started to rise, then changed her mind and lifted his leg one at a time and removed his shoes. "I want you barefoot when I strip you to your tighty-whities," she said. She then stood behind him and took hold of his shirt tail. "Arms up, please. Tighty-whities only for you." Blondie hesitated, was about to say something, but then he just submitted. "Higher," ordered Felicity. "Hold them up nice and high." Blondie did so, and of course we were all looking at his crotch. There wasn't much to see. <giggle>

Felicity started pulling up on Blondie's shirt, and she took her sweet time, especially after she exposed his hairless underarms, which I found very intriguing. I remember thinking how humiliated it must be for him, a 16-year-old boy forced to keep his legs and underarms all smooth at a 13-year-old girl's bidding. Then to have to expose that to us, all stretched out like that—in the girls bathroom, no less—gosh, I can only try to imagine how mortified he was.

That being said, I was dearly hoping for more. :)

"I wonder if he has any hair anywhere on his body," giggled one of the onlookers.

"I doubt it," said another, and everyone laughed.

When Blondie was finally relieved of his shirt, he immediately dropped his hands back down to his privates. That would soon be remedied.

"Blondie," said Felicity, "We can't get the full effect of your tighty-whities presentation when you have your hands over your little bits like that." Blondie didn't move, I guess since it was just a comment and not a directive. "Let's keep your hands on your head from now on and away from your little boy bits. I think everyone would find that very pleasing, don't you think so?" Without answering, Blondie capitulated and raised his hands to his head. Felicity was right, I found that very pleasing. :)

"That's my good boy," said Felicity as she did a slow 360 around the troubled teen, checking him out at every turn. "You look so delectable," continued Felicity, as she teased him by strumming her fingers lightly up and down his sides. She did another 360, then stopped in front of him, looked him up and down, then looked him in the eye. "Do you know how you can become even more delectable?" she asked.

Oh, be still my heart! Tell me this is going where I hope it is going.

Blondie must have been thinking what I was thinking also, because his eyes grew as big as saucers.

"Oh, I think you do," said Felicity. "Can you tell me, Blondie?" teased Felicity. She put her hands on his hips. "Can you tell me how we can make you even more delectable?"

"Please, I....I don't know," answered Blondie.

"But I think you do, sweetie," she said as she inserted her hands inside the back of his underpants and felt up his bum. "And I want you to tell me."

Blondie was between the proverbial rock and a hard place. He knew exactly what Felicity wanted him to say, and he didn't want to even say it, much less do it. But if he didn't answer—or, to take it a step further, answer correctly—then somehow she would make matters even worse for him.

Is that even possible?

"I....by....by pulling down my underpants?" he manged to eke out, eliciting a chorus of giggling from his new fans.

"Good, Blondie!" exclaimed Felicity as she took her hands out of his tighty-whities and clapped her hands together. "You're definitely on the right track. But there are different degrees of delectability. For instance, I'd say right now, you standing here with all these girls looking at you all embarrassed in those tighty-whities with your pretty legs on display, on a scale of one to ten your delectability level is probably an eight. Now, if we were to do what you suggested—and thank you for that—I'd put your delectability level at a solid nine. I know at least one of your admirers was wondering if you had any hair on your little bits. If you're standing there with your tighty-whities around your knees, it would be a delectable sight, and it would answer that burning question.

"Now....let's say we took it a step further and not only pulled your tighty-whities down, but continued their descent aaaall the way down your pretty legs and completely off your feet." Felicity paused and looked Blondie in the eye. He looked absolutely miserable, and I don't think I could have been more excited. "If we did that, what would you be, Blondie?"

"Um....um...."

"Say it. What would you be?"

"A....a ten?"

"Well, yes, your delectability level would be a ten," she said through her laughter. "But you wouldn't be wearing any clothes, in which case you'd be?" she asked.

"N-Naked?"

Oh, I loved it!

"Yes!" exclaimed Felicity. "You'd be naked! And yes, your level of delectability would be a perfect ten!" She paused to let that sink in, then continued.

"Tell you what. Let's take a vote." She turned and addressed us. "A show of hands will be fine. How many of you would like to let Blondie keep his tighty-whities on?" Not surprisingly, no hand was raised. "Anyone? Okay, how many of you would like to see Blondie's tighty-whities pulled down to his knees?" One hand shot up quickly, but she then withdrew it when she realized there was another, more stimulating option. "And lastly, how many of you would like to see Blondie's tighty-whities removed completely, in which case he'd be.....?" She held her palm out to us, and in unison we yelled, "NAKED!" while collectively raising our hand high in the air.

The atmosphere was electric. Felicity was putting on an amazing performance, and it was a stimulating buildup to what was becoming a foregone conclusion. I can tell you, she really had me worked up.

"I guess the people have spoken," said Felicity, "And apparently they would all like you to be naked." She paused and smiled at the hapless Blondie. "Are you ready to be naked?" she asked.

"No! Please, I'm begging you! Don't....don't do this! Not here!" he responded. I was surprised—and more than a little titillated—that he was still begging at this point. He had to know it would be of no use.

"Oh, Blondie, don't be such a tease. Look how excited your audience is. And they all want you see you naked. Surely you wouldn't want to disappoint them." There was no response from Blondie this time, as he finally seemed to be resigned to his ignominious fate. "No, I thought not.

"Now, let's see, how shall we go about relieving you of your undies? I'll let you mentally prepare yourself for your soon-to-be nakedness while I think this over. Oh, and no matter what, you're not to cover up. If you dare move your hands from your head, there will be consequences.

"So, as I see it, there are several ways we could go here. We could pull down your tighty-whities ever so slowly, bit by bit, for a tantalizing unveiling. I realize, though it would be enjoyable for us to watch, it would no doubt be a rather agonizing experience for you.

"Another option would be to just take hold of your tighty-whities like this and simply haul them down really fast, like this." As she said that, she simultaneously walked behind Blondie, took hold of his waistband with both hands, and to the surprise of all (especially Blondie!), she zealously yanked downward. In the blink of an eye, Blondie's tighty-whities had been relocated from his hips to all the way down to the tops of his feet.

Blondie was blindsided, and for a brief moment he didn't know what hit him. It was when Felicity bent down and freed his displaced tighty-whities from his feet that it registered for him that he was suddenly standing totally naked before us. Somehow (and much to my appreciation) Blondie managed to obey Felicity's command and maintain his hands-on-head position.

As for us, well, the sounds of hoopla and revelry resonated throughout the girls bathroom as we ogled the naked, crimson-faced boy. I had last seen his bared goodies back in our sophomore year in Miss Farnsworth's Homeroom class. Looking at them now, I couldn't see any change. His dick was definitely still on the small side, and like then he had no hair. Of course, thanks to Brenda I was aware that he had actually since grown bodily hair, and that as of a few days ago (at Felicity's behest) he has to stay hairless all over. Judging by the comments, not everybody in the room was aware of that tidbit.

"A little wee wee with no hair," laughed one girl.

"Poor little freshman baby," said another.

"No, he's a junior," someone shouted out (okay, it was me). "He's in my Homeroom."

"Oh, my God, are you serious? No way! How old is he?"

"He's sixteen," chimed in the smiling Felicity, a revelation that created another loud uproar.

"Oh my God, he's sixteen with a hairless little weenie like that? Oh, you poor little boy, how embarrassing!" remarked a girl behind me.

"Embarrassing" was quite the understatement. It had to be absolutely excruciating for him to be standing there in the girls bathroom, stripped naked with his undersized, hairless genitals on full display for an all-female audience that was delighting in his humiliation. His face was positively glowing, and seemed to flush brighter with every biting comment from the energized coeds.

When it eventually quieted down, Felicity turned the screws a little tighter. "Are they right, Blondie?" she asked. "Is it embarrassing to be 16-years-old and have hairless little bits?" The miserable Blondie just looked straight down without answering. "Answer me, Blondie," persisted Felicity.

"Yes," said Blondie softly.

"Yes, what?" countered Felicity.

"It's....it's embarrassing to have....to be 16-years old and have lit....hairless little bits."

Laughter rang throughout, and Blondie was about as miserable as one could imagine. But Felicity had one last debasement for the most unfortunate teen. She gathered up all of his clothes—notably leaving his tighty-whities draped over one of the stall doors—and started walking to the exit. She stopped at the door and said, "You can put on your tighty-whities, in, say, three minutes. I'll leave the rest of your clothes at your locker. And don't you ever try to resist me again." She wasn't done. "During those three minutes, you are to keep repeating these words: 'I'm completely naked, and I'm so embarrassed, because everyone is staring at my bald little boy bits." I almost choked on my saliva. "Let me hear you say it."

"I'm na....completely naked, and I'm embarrassed because..."

"Wait!" interrupted Felicity. "You are so embarrassed. Now try it again."

"I'm so....I'm completely naked, and I'm so embarrassed because....because everyone is staring at my....my bald little boy bits."

"Excellent!" Felicity shouted, so she could be heard over our laughter. "Now keep saying it, for three minutes."

"Maybe he can walk around for us while he says it?" I called out. I couldn't help myself. I wanted to see him walk around naked.

"What a fun idea!" agreed Felicity. "Blondie, walk back and forth the length of the bathroom while you say it. For three minutes. Will someone set a timer?" The girl next to me stopped videoing for a moment and set a timer on her phone. "Okay, three minutes, starting right now," said Felicity. "Start walking."

And he did. For the next three minutes we were thoroughly entertained by the extraordinary spectacle of the naked teen parading back and forth, hands on his head while articulating the mortifying words over and over. The humiliation level was off the charts. I don't know if it is even possible for one's face to be any redder than Blondie's was at that moment.

When the timer went off, Blondie made a beeline for his tighty-whities and pulled them on in nothing flat. At some point Felicity had indeed slipped away with the rest of his clothes. As he left the bathroom, I followed him out and watched gleefully as Blondie scampered the length of the hallway in his tighty-whities to rescue his clothes.

That fabulous vision (along with everything that transpired in the bathroom that day) played a considerable part in stimulating me to compose these memoirs. 


Submitted: September 05, 2022

© Copyright 2022 Blondie2. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Robert Brooks

Fantastic chapter Blondie! So great to see you continue this story. As you know, I’m all about underwear humiliation so The Underpants Memoirs is among my all time favourite series. I hope Michelle has plenty more memories to share!

Wed, September 14th, 2022 10:53am